


In Reverse Order

by Spectral_Mist, Twilight Fang (Asthenos)



Series: The order of things [2]
Category: Ghostbusters (Movies 1984-1989)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Date, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-11
Updated: 2019-12-11
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:40:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21752377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spectral_Mist/pseuds/Spectral_Mist, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Asthenos/pseuds/Twilight%20Fang
Summary: Egon is left feeling used and unwanted after Peter is done with him but, as it turns out, he is only allowing his insecurity to get the better of him. Because tossing Egon aside is not part of Peter’s plan.
Relationships: Egon Spengler/Peter Venkman
Series: The order of things [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1567762
Comments: 2
Kudos: 44





	In Reverse Order

**Author's Note:**

> This continues right after where Second Skin leaves off.
> 
> **I have added my alternate user ID Asthenos to this fanfic while I debate over whether or not I will merge the two accounts**

Up until yesterday, Egon had considered himself to be in complete control of his emotions. Most of the time, he denied having any in order to keep his mind neutral and avoid corrupting his scientific objectivity. Now, however, he felt like he was riding a tumultuous pendulum of perpetual anxiety, depression, and abandonment. And it was all Peter’s fault.

Since that unexpected tryst in the lab, where Egon had allowed himself to not only lose his virginity, but to also become the latest plaything of Peter Venkman’s, Egon had seen neither hide nor hair of the notorious womanizer. The only explanation Egon could come up with for Peter’s cool detachment was a lack of interest. What transpired between them in that lab had not been an act of love, but one of carnal pleasure. Peter had been desperate for a warm body to occupy himself with and Egon had been a convenient target. End of story.

All those sweet promises that Peter had whispered to Egon afterwards were nothing but the product of the Venkman charm. Peter was infamous for his ability to sweet talk women into his bed. His words meant nothing to them, just as they ought to mean nothing to Egon. And yet... they did mean something to him. Peter’s words continued to resonate with Egon, eating away at his concentration and productivity.

“ _I think I’m just gonna have to keep you, Egon,_ ” Peter had murmured to him while they were cuddling on the laboratory floor, on top of their rumpled clothing, after Peter had finally succeeded in overwhelming the slime. With an insatiable libido like Peter’s, it was no wonder that the slime had been reluctant to release him.

Then, when the sound of the heavy front door opening caused them to separate, Peter had pulled Egon back for another slow, sensual kiss. “ _You’re mine now. And nobody messes with anything that belongs to Peter Venkman.”_ It almost sounded like Peter was serious, but that was before Egon had woken up to an empty bed, lower back pains, and feeling sore in places he had previously never felt sensation in.

If it hadn’t been for the aphrodisiac effects of the mood slime, Egon never would have let his guard down around Peter. And he surely wouldn’t have allowed things to go as far as they had. Because now Peter had bragging rights on him, and Egon had nothing left but a sense of emptiness and sadness. That was not the way he had envisioned his _first time_ turning out - years of self-control being tossed out the window for less than thirty minutes of wild, mindless sex. The absolute worst part about it was that Egon had always had a crush on Peter, sort of a combination of hero worship and yearning. But the innocence of those feelings was long gone, having been trampled on and desecrated, along with Egon’s chastity.

Having no idea where Peter had vanished to, and willing himself not to care either way, Egon busied himself with his work. There was plenty to do and no one really capable of doing it, which meant that he could immerse himself in more meaningful matters than a broken heart. It served him right, really, to have set such high expectations for a free spirit like Peter Venkman. Why would Peter wish to settle for an antisocial loner like Egon when he could have a beautiful woman at his side instead? Most likely one who was capable of making Peter laugh, and skilled enough in the art of communication to be able to carry on a normal conversation at the dinner table. What did Egon have to talk about? If he wasn’t preoccupied with spores, molds and fungus, he was boring people with scientific and technical jargon. Egon had absolutely nothing to offer anyone in a relationship, which is why he had remained untouched for so long.

“No need to worry, boys. Dinner is served!”

Egon peered downstairs through the hole in the bedroom floor that allowed for the fire pole to connect all three floors of the building. Speak of the devil. There was Peter, strolling into the receptionist’s area with a satisfied smirk on his face. He was carrying a styrofoam serving tray with four hot drinks, and three paper bags. Aside from being far too smooth with the women, Peter was also a consummate cheapskate. He had picked up burgers and fries from the greasy joint at the other end of the alley across the street, instead of saving his buddies from food poisoning by sticking with one of the major chain restaurants.

Thinking that he had better act as normal as possible, to avoid a dysfunctional working relationship with Peter, and prying questions from the others, Egon forced himself to go downstairs to risk contracting a salmonella infection. Maybe getting himself laid up in bed beside Peter for a few days would patch things up between them. That was how low his self-esteem had sunken to within the last few hours. He was willing to eat half raw hamburgers, served up at a hole in the ground that had been investigated by the FDA for cross-contamination, just to gain Peter’s acceptance. Perhaps this was how Peter left all his one-night stands - pitifully trying to lure the hot stud back, after he had made it plainly obvious that he was done with them.

When Egon reached the bottom of the stairs, he opened his mouth to protest, but it was already too late. Peter was flinging hamburgers out onto the receptionist’s desk, paying no attention to the memos and invoices that he was endangering with grease marks. Now Egon really had to consider turning down this hazardous meal. Just the other night, Egon was on his way to Peter’s office, minding his own business, when he had happened upon Janine and Louis. Or, more accurately, Janine lying on her back with Louis’ head up her skirt. After recovering from his initial mortification, Egon had retreated back to his laboratory where he could purge his mind and refresh his vision with something less obscene. He hadn’t thought of the incident again until the exact moment when Peter knocked over a box of French fries, spilling them onto the bare desktop. Even if the desk had been wiped down with a disinfectant, Egon was not putting those fries into his mouth.

“Thanks a lot, Pete,” Winston said as he clapped Peter on the back and helped himself to a burger and fries.

“What’s this?” Janine called out in her shrill voice as she reappeared from the bathroom. “You guys are having burgers without me?”

“Nope. I got you one, too.” Peter passed one to Janine, and the other to Ray.

That left only one burger set, which meant that Peter had not gotten any for Egon. Suddenly, the desire to become ill with food poisoning grew incredibly strong in the pit of Egon’s stomach. Even a trip to the emergency room to get his stomach pumped would hurt less than being snubbed by his best friend.

Ray, having spotted Egon, gave Peter a questioning look. “Didn’t you get anything for Egon?”

“Egon?” Peter cast a surprised look over his shoulder. “There you are,” he exclaimed with more enthusiasm. “I’m taking Egon out for something a little fancier.” His blue eyes were twinkling with mischief, and he even had the nerve to wink suggestively at Egon.

“You are?” Ray asked, sounding intrigued.

“You are?” Egon echoed, not knowing what to make of this new development.

“Then who’s this other burger for?” Winston poked at the extra burger and looked hopeful. Did he honestly not remember what had happened the last time they ordered takeout from _Sally’s Burgers_? Or, maybe he really was living from pay check to pay check, as he often claimed to be.

“That - my friend - is for the gentleman under Janine’s desk,” Peter replied in his sauciest tone.

“Hi guys,” came a weak unmanly voice from under the desk. _Louis_! Who else?!

Nothing got past Peter, especially not something that was worthy of turning into blackmail. He probably kept tabs on everyone and knew where they were and what they were doing at all times.

“Where’re you taking Egon?” It figured that Ray was the first to ask that question, seeing as how he was the most curious of the bunch. Janine might have beaten him to it, had she not been passing fries under the desk.

Peter gave the others his slyest smile - the _I don’t kiss and tell_ smile - before looping an arm around Egon’s waist and tugging him in the direction of the front entrance. “Somewhere nice and cozy,” was all he said.

This was not at all what Egon had been expecting. Was Peter seriously implying that they were going out on a dinner date? What if Peter took him to some sleazy club as a joke, and Egon was ridiculed for the way he was dressed? Or what if Peter was really intending to take him to one of those posh places that he saved for his special dates? Egon couldn’t walk into a place like that wearing a burgundy tie and unpolished shoes.

“Relax, sexy, what you’re wearing’s fine,” Peter murmured near Egon’s ear.

“You taking the Ectomobile?” Winston jingled the keys in Peter’s direction.

“Nah. My date and I are traveling in style tonight.” Then, to Egon he said, “Our yellow chariot awaits.”

Genuinely intrigued with where this was heading, and relieved that Peter was not behaving childish or cruel towards him, Egon allowed himself to be ushered outside. He overheard Ray and Winston arguing over what kind of date he was being taken on, before they moved out of earshot.

Outside Ghostbusters Headquarters, the sky was slowly darkening into a chalky slate blue, with thin splashes of pink and magenta on the horizon. The sun was setting and taking all of the color and clouds with it. The darker atmosphere made the yellow taxi parked at the curb stand out even more so than usual. The Ghostbusters rarely entertained taxis as they had their own repurposed vintage ambulance/hearse that they used for both business and pleasure. And, aside from the Ectomobile, Egon was more accustomed to seeing the police or crisis unit parked outside of the building.

“After you.” Peter held open the rear door on the passenger’s side for Egon, and closed it again once he was inside. After a brief conversation with the grandmotherly figure who was up front in the driver’s seat, Peter hopped into the back beside Egon. And then they were off.

“Peter, where are we going?”

“Look, Egon, there’s something we need to get straight.” Peter leaned closer to Egon and slid an arm behind his lower back. When the palm of Peter’s hand flattened on Egon’s backside, causing him to flinch, Peter swore under his breath. “Still sore, huh?” He urged Egon to lean up against him, thereby taking the weight off of the area where it hurt the most. “I never would’ve done what I did if it hadn’t been for that mood slime. Well, no, that’s not entirely true. I still would’ve done it, just not under those circumstances. Or on that table. You didn’t get splinters, did you? Because if you did, I’m gonna feel awful about it.”

Trust Peter to ruin the perfect apology with something as idiotic as splinters. Although, come to think of it, getting splinters in his backside was not something that Egon would have enjoyed. “No, Peter. The table was laminated.”

“Thank goodness for that,” Peter declared with a laugh.

Despite how nervous Egon felt about going out on an actual date with Peter, he couldn’t help but smile when Peter affectionately ruffled his hair. The cocky psychologist reeked of department store cologne and aftershave, which meant that he was taking this whole date thing very seriously. He was even wearing a clean shirt under his leather jacket, and a neatly pressed pair of pants. Both the shirt and the pants had to have come from the dry cleaner’s because nothing Peter owned smelled that fresh. Peter was more of an air-it-out-the-window type of guy. He rarely did his own laundry, relying on someone else to take offence to him wearing the same clothes repeatedly and do it for him. Egon was usually the unlucky chump who ended up washing, ironing, and hanging Peter’s shirts in the closet. Not that he minded because he got to snoop around his friend’s stuff in the process.

“Mmm, you smell sweet. What’ve you been eating?” Peter sniffed near Egon, which caused Egon to tingle all over.

“Peter, we’re in the back of a taxi,” Egon said with a great deal of restraint.

“So?”

“So someone might see.”

“See what?” Peter pressed with amusement. “The leader of the Ghostbusters making out with his brainiac sidekick in the middle of rush hour traffic?”

“Nobody actually declared you the leader—.” Egon’s next words were swallowed by Peter’s open-mouthed kiss. This kiss was nothing like the raw hunger that Peter had attacked him with back at the laboratory. This time the kiss was gentle, warm, and passionate. And from the start to the finish, Peter’s fingers continued to roam through Egon’s hair.

“3 Musketeers,” Peter said at last as he withdrew and licked his lips. “Egon, baby, you’ve been cheating on me.”

Egon couldn’t help but blush at Peter’s flirtatious tone. He wanted to apologize and tell Peter that he had run out of Crunch bars - Peter’s chocolate bar of choice when it came to rewarding him - but he found his voice was malfunctioning, as was his brain. Someone had left a rather large bag of mini chocolate bars in the kitchen, and Egon had gotten into them. A small part of him felt guilty about it, mainly because Halloween was fast approaching and the packaging of that bag had sported Jack-o’-lanterns and bats. But the unspoken rule in the firehouse was ‘leave it and lose it’, so he had helped himself.

“GO VENKMAN!” Some punk on an electric scooter shouted at them as he weaved between the taxi and a Greyhound bus.

For a moment, Egon froze, feeling like his heart might cease all activity. He shot Peter a panicked look, to which the psychologist cocked an eyebrow.

“What’s wrong?”

“Peter, he saw us.” Terrified that Peter was going to hate him for ruining his reputation, Egon tried to retreat to his own side of the car. But Peter wouldn’t let him. Instead of pushing him away, Peter held him tighter.

“Big deal, Egon. People see us all the time.”

“But they’ll think...”

“And they’ll be right,” Peter said calmly. “I get it. You’ve never been out on a date before. When two people go out together, they get seen together. That’s the natural order of things. Now, let me ask you a question. Are you worried about what people might think? Or are you worried about what it might do to my _reputation_?”

“I’m worried about your reputation,” Egon admitted.

“Okay, great, you can stop doing that now. My reputation is a load of bullshit. There is no reputation. People think what I let them think. And right now I want them to think that I’m with you. Because I like you, Egon, as more than a best friend. But I think that I made that pretty damn clear when I screwed you senseless yesterday.”

“Watch your mouth,” the grey-haired driver warned Peter, glaring sternly at him in the rear view mirror. “This is a family friendly cab.”

“Sorry, grandma,” Peter apologized.

A few blocks down the road, the taxi driver pulled over, and Egon got out. He eyed the strip club with flashing neon lights in front of him while he patiently waited for Peter to pay their fare. This was so typical of Peter, to drag Egon to a place that was well out of his comfort zone. Peter was aware that Egon had no interest in women, wasn’t he? He wouldn’t have taken such a risk with Egon if he hadn’t at least suspected the way Egon swung.

“Wrong side of the road,” Peter declared as he took Egon by the arm and led him across the street.

It took a good deal of confidence, which Egon really didn’t have, to walk into the fancy Italian restaurant with Peter practically draped all over him. The decor inside was simple and tasteful, and the tables situated quite far apart in their own privately lit spaces. In one corner of the room, near the patio door leading to the outdoor seating - which was only used in the summer - a pianist was playing a sullen melody that gave Egon the chills. He had never dined in such an upscale restaurant before and fretted that he lacked the table manners to do so here. The only time he had set foot in such a restaurant was when he, Winston, and Ray had gone to warn Peter about the river of slime flowing beneath the city. Not that he wanted to remember entering a five-star restaurant covered in slime and wearing nothing but his long underwear.

“Good evening, sir. May I help you?” An elegantly dressed man standing near a podium greeted them as they approached.

“Yeah. I’ve got a reservation for six-thirty under Venkman. Peter Venkman.”

Egon cringed at the casual way Peter introduced himself. But the man paid no attention to Peter’s attitude. He merely checked Peter’s name off the reservation list and gestured for them to follow him.

Amazingly, Peter displayed what might have been a latent telepathic ability by clearing his throat when the man got a bit too close to the piano player. “Would you mind seating us somewhere near the window on the other side?” Peter asked politely. “My date’s kind of shy.”

All of the tension automatically left Egon as soon as they were led to a table as far away from the pianist as possible. If Egon had been forced to sit near that spotlight, becoming the center of attention in the rather intimately arranged room, he would have died of embarrassment. On any normal day, he would have loved to bask in the intellectual hum of some expertly played classical music. But this was not any normal day.

“Here you are.” The waiter carefully placed a menu in front of Peter, and then another in front of Egon. “Can I get you something to drink from the wine menu?”

“I’ll have a glass of Statti Gaglioppo. And my date’ll have a glass of your finest sparkling apple cider.”

“Very well, sir.”

With the waiter off to get their drinks, and give them time to peruse the menu, Egon couldn’t help but admit that he was pleasantly impressed with Peter’s overall attitude. This date was definitely no prank. And there was no pressure involved either. Peter was respecting Egon’s preferences by ordering something non-alcoholic for him, and by choosing a quiet table away from the other chatty diners. The view from the window wasn’t half bad either as they were overlooking a small flower garden, with the occasional potted herb plant thrown in to spruce things up.

But when Egon opened up the menu to see what the restaurant had to offer, he balked at the prices. One dish cost more than one bill of takeout for all four Ghostbusters. Who was going to be fitting the bill for this lavish meal anyhow? Peter had already paid for the taxi. Was it now Egon’s turn to pick up the tab? A lot of people were going Dutch nowadays, at least according to Ray, so maybe they were going to split the bill. Maybe he ought to just stick with the cheapest appetizer and hope that Peter did the same.

Once again, Peter seemed to know exactly what Egon was thinking because he slapped his palm down on Egon’s menu, effectively covering up the prices. “It’s my treat, Egon. So just order whatever you like. And try to relax a little. Your stiff posture is giving me a crick in the neck.” Before he withdrew his hand, Peter took hold of Egon’s and squeezed it reassuringly. “This is weird, huh?” He mused, seemingly admiring Egon from across the table. “We probably should’ve done this before the other thing, but that’s life for you. Everything is done backwards.” After a moment, he smiled his best Cheshire cat’s smile and said, “Y’know something, Egon? You have really beautiful eyes.” Egon blushed at that, not really knowing what to say. “It goes really well with your smile. You really ought to smile more often, at least for me. Do you think you can do that for me?”

“I smile,” Egon protested defensively.

“Well, you’re smiling now. But your cheeks are quite red,” Peter teased. However, his teasing mood quickly sobered and his grip on Egon’s hand tightened meaningfully. “I don’t ever want to see you looking depressed and unwanted again, got it? Not because of me.” He leaned across the table to grip Egon’s chin when Egon tried to shamefully drop his gaze. “And stop doing that as well.” Mindful of the other diners, Peter stroked his hand over Egon’s face in a longing caress, before he sat back in his seat. “I said some pretty heartfelt things to you yesterday - things that I meant. You didn’t really think that I would toss you to the curb after we’d shared that level of intimacy, did you?”

“I don’t know, Peter,” Egon admitted truthfully as he blinked back tears. “The entire realm of dating falls outside my area of expertise.”

“And?” Peter coaxed, trying to get everything out on the table where he could no doubt psychoanalyze it.

“And I’m an anomaly on your track record.”

“Oh, you mean the women.” Peter shrugged dismissively at where this was all going. “Generally speaking, I prefer women, but I have been known to experiment. That’s not what I was doing with you. We’ve been friends for far too long for me to risk screwing that up, so let me give it to you straight. I’ve fallen madly in love you with you, and it wasn’t rocket science for me to figure out that you also had a thing for me, so I acted on it. The mood slime got me into your lab, but everything else that happened did so because I wanted it to.”

Egon couldn’t believe that Peter had actually said the word ‘love’. Nothing caused the psychologist to recoil faster than a woman professing her love for him. Now here Peter was, watching Egon’s reaction with an intensity to his blue eyes that was breathtaking. Just the thought of being loved by Peter filled Egon with a positive energy that he nearly couldn’t contain. He understood very little about emotions, but all his instincts were telling him that he loved Peter just as much.

“Are you gentlemen ready to order?” The waiter reappeared at a healthy distance, respectfully giving Egon some time to compose himself.

“As a matter of fact, we are.” Peter selected some dishes from the menu, ordering on behalf of Egon while he was at it. “We’re gonna need to see your dessert menu as well. My boyfriend here has a sweet tooth like you would not believe.”

By the time the waiter strode off to take their orders to the kitchen, Egon was smiling so brightly his cheeks were beginning to hurt.

“Now that’s what I’m talking about.” Peter smiled back with genuine delight.

When the waiter returned with their drinks and appetizers, Peter picked up his glass, swirled the wine around in it, and proposed a toast.

“To the leading man of the Ghostbusters and his super gorgeous boyfriend.”

“Incredibly attractive leading man,” Egon shocked himself by correcting Peter, before clinking their glasses together.

“I’m not going to argue with that.” Peter eagerly accepted the compliment and downed a good portion of his wine. “We’ve always made quite the team,” he mused. “We shouldn’t be so surprised that we work well together as a couple, too. But before you get too comfortable, keep in mind that this type of dinner is a once or twice-a-year sort of thing. The next time we’re doing supermarket bentos in the park.”

“Are you certain your credit card has the sufficient funds to pay for this dinner?” Egon teased.

“We’ll find out when the bill comes, now won’t we,” Peter flippantly replied. “If not, I’m sure we can get them to hire you as the dishwasher for the night. Although, their dishes will be chipped and scratched to hell after you’re done with them.”

“It’s not my fault that my eyesight is so poor,” Egon quipped, playing along with Peter’s game.

“Tell that to all the windows you’ve taken out with your proton beam.” Probably remembering a funny incident where Egon had zapped his surroundings and missed his target, Peter began to laugh. He shook his head in amusement when he was done. “I’ve gotta hand it to you though, you’re adorable when you’re damaging our clients property. You couldn’t look any guiltier if you tried.”

Egon wasn’t given the chance to retaliate because the waiter was approaching the table with their food. The man had to be much stronger than he looked to be balancing those heavy plates on his arms like that. He was quick to place the dishes in front of them, refilling Peter’s wine glass before disappearing again.

They said very little to each other while they were eating, concentrating on the exquisite meal they had been served and leaving the playful banter for later. Egon thought that he’d died and gone to heaven when he swallowed a mouthful of the ravioli that Peter had ordered. It was like little cheesy mushroom squares swimming in a pond of cream sauce. Egon loved mushrooms, so he was even happier to find different varieties in the penne gratin and decorating the pizza.

Throughout the meal, Peter continued to glance at Egon every so often to ensure that he was enjoying himself. Peter spent so much of his time acting obnoxious and arrogant that Egon was surprised to discover that his popular friend was capable of feeling nervous and uncertain, just like everyone else.

By the time the dessert arrived, the pianist was playing a very sleepy piece that made Egon feel even more relaxed.

“You ready to go?” Peter suddenly asked, interrupting Egon as he was finishing off the tiramisu.

“Almost...” Egon washed down the tiramisu with the hot double espresso and sighed. Now he was ready to go.

Out in the parking lot, Egon rubbed his hands together to warm them up. It would be much colder in the next few days, which might make Halloween night an uncomfortable affair. Halloween was perhaps the busiest day of the year for the Ghostbusters, with the New Year not far behind. Egon wondered if Peter would take him on another date after Halloween. The supermarket bento in the park idea sounded quite promising, especially now that the fall leaves were in their most colorful stage of transition.

The glass door of the Italian restaurant swung open and Peter sauntered outside. He was stuffing a receipt into his wallet and grinning.

“I was concerned that your credit card had been rejected,” Egon said earnestly.

“Sorry it took so long. I got you a little something to go.” Peter dangled a plastic bag in front of Egon. But when Egon reached over to take it, Peter grabbed him in a secure hug. “You want it? It’s gonna cost you.” He pulled Egon in for a very passionate kiss. With the way Peter was practically smothering Egon in kisses, it seemed like he was having a bad reaction to having to behave himself throughout dinner. Not that Egon hadn’t been aware of his date’s waning self-control. The looks Peter had been sending his way from across the dinner table had been fairly transparent.

“Peter,” Egon gasped when the psychologist let him up for air.

“Yeah, I know. We’re in a public place.” Peter kissed Egon again, but this time more thoroughly. His palms pressed to Egon’s cheeks, holding him in place, with that plastic bag hanging tauntingly from his wrist. “It’s just... those noises you make,” he murmured between kisses. Kisses that Egon was now returning with just as much desperation. “And... the way you were eating that tiramisu,” Peter groaned. “Did you have to lick the fork?”

Egon grasped onto the collar of Peter’s leather jacket, pressing himself tightly against Peter as he panted near his ear. “Would you rather I have licked something else?”

“Oh, you naughty boy,” Peter laughed. “The things you pick up from me.” Kissing Egon once more, with a lot more tongue, Peter then passed him the bag. “I got you more of that tiramisu. In case you want to eat it in bed tonight.” When Egon gave Peter a questioning look, the psychologist’s expression became serious. “We’re not pretending that this isn’t happening, Egon. And if it really is happening, then the others are bound to find out sooner or later. Might as well make it sooner rather than later.”

Egon rested his head against Peter’s chest, feeling unbelievably warm and happy inside. He closed his eyes and smiled when Peter’s strong arms closed protectively around him, holding him tight. “Peter... I think that I’m in love with you,” Egon sighed contentedly.

“I know you are,” Peter said gently, his lips brushing light kisses over Egon’s forehead.

**Author's Note:**

> Any feedback will be returned with lots of love and more fics! (◍•ᴗ•◍)❤


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